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  Christina grunted and the energy rope began crawling upon my body. I raised my arms, but it was no good, because the rope went up to my chest and, without warning, suddenly started constricting like a snake. The air was forced out of my lungs and I couldn’t breathe.

  “All this effort to get back the Watch, but you only accomplished dying like a clown,” said Christina, shaking her head. “Lucky for us that you’re such an idiot. Otherwise, I would actually be worried that you might beat us.”

  I would have told Christina to shut the hell up, but unfortunately that required air to breathe, which I didn’t have at the moment.

  But I wasn’t nearly as helpless as Christina thought. I reached down and pulled out one of the metal disks from the pouch attached to my belt. I aimed and threw the disk at her face, but Christina ducked, dodging it very easily.

  “How pathetic,” said Christina, standing up again. “You threw a dumb disk at me and you didn’t even hit me. What’s up with that? I thought that the legendary Trickshot never misses.”

  I would have made some clever quip just then about how I never miss, but again, that required air. All I could do was smirk as I saw my disk bounce off the window behind her and then off the ceiling directly at the back of her head.

  She didn’t even see it coming. The disk struck Christina directly in the back of her head. She immediately collapsed onto the floor, unconscious, while her energy rope immediately dissipated around my body, allowing me to breathe once again. I scrambled to my feet and looked down at her, but it was pretty obvious that she was not going to be getting up again anytime soon.

  Still breathing hard, I walked over to Mom and Dad to make sure they were okay. Kneeling in front of them, I shook them both, saying, “Hey, can you two hear me? Wake up. Please.”

  Thankfully, their eyes flickered open. At first, they had dazed looks, as if they didn’t know where they were, but soon understanding dawned in their eyes and they looked around the office in confusion.

  “Huh?” said Dad. “Where are we? What happened?” He looked at me with a confused look. “And who are you?”

  “I’m Trickshot,” I said. “As for where you are, you were in danger, but now you’re safe. I just need to untie both of you and we can all get out of here safely.”

  “I remember someone knocking at the door,” said Mom in a slightly dazed voice. “When I opened the door, something hard hit my head and I fell unconscious.”

  “It was probably the Injectors,” I said. “But there’s no time to explain. Come on. I’ll undo your ropes and get you guys out of here.”

  Just as I reached for the ropes holding Mom and Dad down, Dad’s eyes widened and he said, “Watch out!”

  Before I could look over my shoulder, I felt something sharp stab into my back. Crying out suddenly, I threw my arms behind me, but whoever had stabbed me jumped out of my reach. I turned around to see who had stabbed me and dread fell over me when I saw who now stood a few feet away from me:

  It was Lethal Injection. And he was holding up one of his stingers, slightly stained with my blood.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  As soon as I looked at Lethal Injection, I suddenly gasped. My veins started to burn and my whole body felt like it was on fire. I staggered, almost falling to my hands and knees, but instead I leaned on one of the nearby desks for support, panting hard as the venom worked its way through my body. It would still be a while before it actually killed me, but I could tell it was a fast-acting poison, which meant I didn’t have much longer if I wanted to live.

  Lethal Injection, as usual, said nothing. He just looked at me from behind his helmet, his expression hidden away by his helmet’s visor.

  “Damn it,” I said, my voice tinged with raggedness. “I should have seen that … should have seen that coming.”

  I expected Lethal Injection to be as silent as usual, but instead, he chuckled, a sound that seemed oddly familiar for some reason.

  “What’s so funny?” I said. “I’m dying here and you think this is amusing?”

  Lethal Injection shook his head. He tapped the side of his helmet and the visor flipped up suddenly, revealing a familiar face I had not expected to see behind that helmet.

  I gaped. “Michael Jones? You’re Lethal Injection?”

  Lethal Injection—no, Michael Jones—nodded, a smirk on his face. “Correct, kid. Since you’re going to be dying anyway, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to show you my real identity.”

  “But …” I coughed once or twice, not serious coughs, but enough to make me worried for my own health. “I didn’t know you and Lethal Injection were one and the same.”

  “Very few do,” said Michael. “It is beneficial for my purposes if most people believe that Lethal Injection and Michael Jones are two different individuals. That way, my enemies waste time trying to shoot two targets when they should really be aiming for one. Besides, assassination is how I got my start in organized crime, and the Lethal Injection identity lets me indulge in it every now and then whenever I get bored running the day-to-day operations of the Injectors.”

  “You … you monster,” I said. I let go of the desk and tried to take a step closer, but the world spun around me and I was forced to grab the desk again to avoid falling over. “You don’t just hire an assassin to kill people. You are the assassin.”

  “Brilliant deduction,” said Michael sarcastically. “Tell me, what other brilliant insights will you have? Perhaps next you will realize that I am the leader of the Injectors and that I’m very good at selling Power to those who have the money to spend on it.”

  Breathing was becoming harder for me now, but I said, “I don’t have any more insights to share with you. I’m going to take you down once and for all, regardless of what getup you’re wearing.”

  I flew toward Michael, hoping to get in at least one good punch before the poison killed me. Just one punch was all it would take to take him down.

  But Michael spun around and slammed his suit’s scorpion tail into my face. The surprisingly strong blow sent me flying into and through his desk. I slammed against the windows on the other side of the room, causing them to crack upon impact, but they didn’t break. Still, the impact of slamming my skull against the solid glass windows made my head spin even more than it already did, which, in addition to the poison in my body, made it almost impossible for me to focus long enough to do anything other than lie helplessly on the floor like a baby.

  Michael appeared over me. He knelt beside me, resting his arms on his knees, looking at me with the most amused smirk I had ever seen on another human being’s face.

  “I will admit, kid, that you did well,” said Michael. “Putting twenty of my men behind bars and sneaking directly into my office without me knowing? You even gave me a good fight back in the factory a few days ago, even though it was fairly inconclusive. But in the end, I can’t let you live, and I think you know why.”

  I spat in his face. “Monster.”

  Michael wiped the spit off his face, but he didn’t get angry. “Is that all you have to say? I thought you would pick your final words more carefully. It’s a shame, because when I was growing up, I deeply admired the original Trickshot. I even dreamed of becoming a superhero myself someday, but alas, fate had a different plan for me, taking me down a road that has led me to clash rather than work with supers more often than not. Perhaps in another life, you and I would be superheroes working together to keep Rumsfeld safe, but in this life, we’re mortal enemies, and only one of us can survive.”

  I would have said something back to his face, but it was becoming harder and harder to breathe with each passing second. My eyes started to water and all of the strength had been sapped from my limbs, making me feel as weak as I did without the costume. Darkness was tugging at the edges of my vision, and soon the poison would reach my heart or my brain or maybe both and I would be dead.

  My costume, I knew, could remove the poison, if given enough time to do so, but I was afraid that I didn
’t have time for the costume to force the poison out of my body. Even if it did, there was nothing stopping Michael from shooting me in the face with the acid from his tail, acid that would kill me just as easily as, if not more painfully than, the poison currently coursing through my veins.

  Michael stood up and dusted himself off. “Look at this. I went to all of the trouble to put on my Lethal Injection costume, only to kill you in a matter of minutes. It’s somewhat of a hassle to get into and out of, but I can’t complain. If I hadn’t put on the costume, I would likely be at your mercy, instead of you being at my mercy.”

  I couldn’t say anything. I could barely even move. I just glared at Michael with as much anger as I could muster, which was about the only way I could let him know that I wasn’t afraid of him and that I was going to remain defiant to the end. To my frustration, Michael just chuckled.

  “Keep glaring, kid,” said Michael. “It’s an ugly expression to die with on your face, but I suppose we’re all allowed to decide how we want to look when we die. Even if it is ugly.”

  Shaking his head, Michael turned and started walking away, but before he could get very far, Dad suddenly appeared out of nowhere and tackled him to the floor with a yell.

  “Gotcha, you bastard!” Dad said, pinning Michael to the floor with his bulk. “You’re the one who sold my son those drugs that killed him! No way am I ever going to forget that!”

  Michael just grunted in annoyance underneath Dad. His tail whipped Dad across the face quickly, knocking Dad off of him. Michael rose to his feet and kicked Dad in the gut, knocking Dad flat off his feet and onto the floor, where he lay with a stunned look on his face.

  “Dad …” I said in a low whisper that I doubted anyone other than myself heard. “No …”

  Surprisingly, Dad got to his feet, but Michael punched him in the face, grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and then slammed his face against the desk. Then Michael threw Dad onto the floor and kicked him again, this time far more viciously than before, enough to make Dad wheeze in pain.

  “Walter!” Mom screamed from the other side of the office. “Walter, no!”

  Of course, Michael paid no attention to Mom’s screams. He just kept kicking Dad while he was down, each blow more vicious than the last. I felt like he was really angry at Dad for some reason, but it didn’t matter, because, while Dad was a strong guy, Michael was clearly the better fighter of the two. If I didn’t intervene quickly, Dad would definitely die.

  “I need to get up,” I muttered to TW. “I need to get up and save Dad. I need to get up and save Dad now.”

  “Sorry, Jack, but I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do to help you,” said TW in my head. “The suit can get rid of the poison, but it will likely take hours before it does.”

  “I don’t have hours,” I muttered angrily. “I barely have minutes.”

  “I know, but there’s still nothing I can do about it,” said TW. “I’m sorry, I truly am. I wish I could save your father, but I am just as powerless to save him as you are. I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” I muttered. “I’ll think of … think of something …”

  The darkness around the edges of my eyes was growing thicker. It was harder to think. I was barely even aware of Michael beating Dad to death. Bit by bit, my life was slipping through my fingers, and there was nothing I could do about it. Nothing, that is, except ask for help.

  Costume, I said in my mind. Costume, can you hear me? I know you’re busy working on trying to get rid of the poison in my body, but I need your help. I can’t move myself at the moment. I need your help to save Dad. Please, help me.

  Of course, there was no response, as usual. I didn’t talk to my costume much, so I supposed the lack of a response was to be expected, but I still needed to talk to it and convince it to help me.

  Dad needs your help, I said. And he’s not just my dad. He’s the son of your original owner, Gregory. If you don’t help me get on my feet and take down Michael, then you’ll be letting down Gregory. You’ll be letting down me.

  Nothing. No response. Nothing to indicate that my suit heard me or that it was even paying attention to anything I said. Maybe it still didn’t respect me enough to listen to anything I had to say or maybe it was too focused on getting the poison out of my system to pay attention. Regardless, it was clear that this last ditch effort of mine had failed. And that meant that my quest to avenge Thomas had failed as well.

  But then I felt strength flood my limbs. My vision cleared and my entire body felt as energetic as it always did. Deep down, I knew this came from the costume, which was granting me its strength in order for me to do what I needed to do.

  Rising to my feet, I ran toward Michael, who was still kicking Dad over and over again. But then Michael stopped kicking him and aimed his acid tail at him, clearly about to finish him off.

  I grabbed Michael’s tail, causing Michael to look over his shoulder at me in surprise. But I didn’t give him a chance to respond. With super strength flowing through my limbs, I whirled around and threw Michael at the cracked windows behind me.

  Michael didn’t even scream. He just flew through the air, a stunned look on his face as if he could not believe what was happening, and smashed straight through the solid glass window as though it wasn’t even there.

  Then Michael vanished over the edge of the window … and seconds later, I heard a faint thunk below to indicate that Michael had hit the ground.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  One week later …

  I climbed aboard the school bus almost as soon as it came to a stop before my house, saying hi to Mr. Smith, the bus driver, who had just recently gotten out of the hospital after a successful surgery that removed the bullets from his body. He just nodded at me politely, the way he did to every student who climbed aboard, and immediately started the bus up again even before I took my seat.

  I made my way past Ryan Bond and his girlfriend Steph, who were laughing and talking with Ryan’s fellow football teammates, and passed Debra Ackerman, who was chatting away happily with one of her friends whose name I did not know. As I passed them, I overheard Debra mention Trickshot, but I didn’t linger to find out why she was talking about my alter ego, though I could guess, given how my alter ego had been the main topic of conversation everywhere I went this week.

  Soon, I spotted Kyle, who sat in his usual seat near the back of the bus and was looking at his phone when I plopped down next to him and said, “Hey, what’s up?”

  Kyle nearly jumped when I sat down next to him before looking at me and saying, “Warning next time, okay? You know how I don’t like surprises.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “What were you looking at on your phone?”

  “Just the latest news on the Injectors,” said Kyle as he put his phone back into his pocket. “Jones is going to court in a few months to decide if he’s going to prison or not. There’s pretty much no way he won’t get at least a life sentence behind bars, though it remains to be seen if his lawyer will be able to get him a lighter sentence.”

  I frowned. “Has Jones finally awakened from his coma yet? I thought the doctors said he wasn’t going to wake up for months.”

  “Looks like he’s already awake,” said Kyle. “You—I mean, Trickshot really did a number on him, tossing him out the window like that. Any other human would have died after being thrown through a window and falling six stories onto a car.”

  I smiled and leaned back in my seat. “Eh, it was probably just costume. That Lethal Injection armor must have protected his body from the worst of the fall.”

  “I just wish he had died,” said Kyle. He shuddered. “As long as he’s alive, that means there’s always a chance he will be able to come back and, well, you know.”

  “Yeah, I get what you mean,” I said. “But really, you have nothing to worry about. Jones might be conscious again, but I bet he’s going to spend the next several months or maybe even years in a full body cast. And even if he doesn’t,
he doesn’t have any friends or allies anymore, what with the Injectors being disbanded and all.”

  “I sure hope you’re right,” said Kyle, readjusting his glasses. “I’m just worried he might come after y—I mean, Trickshot.”

  “He can try, but I don’t think he will do any better than he did the first time,” I said with a chuckle.

  “Yeah, probably,” said Kyle. “I just have a hard time accepting that the Injectors are gone. I didn’t think they would ever be defeated, but now their boss is on his way to prison and the ones who weren’t arrested are scattered like rats.”

  I nodded. After I threw Michael Jones out the window, I had had Kyle call the police again. This time, Kyle’s call actually got through to the police chief, who sent nearly the entire department, as well as the local SWAT team, to surround the Peter Glow Building and arrest as many Injectors as they could find. They didn’t get everyone—some of the Injectors had fled, while others hadn’t been at the Building at the time—but they did get their hands on Michael Jones, who, as Kyle just said, had been found in a coma on top of a blue van parked in the Building’s parking lot.

  Although some Injectors were still at large, the organization was considered dead. The police had already confiscated all of the computers and documents found in the various offices used by the Injectors for their fake business, while the FBI had stepped in and confiscated their supply of Power, which had also been kept inside the Building. According to the articles I read, there had been over six million dollars’ worth of Power just in the Peter Glow Building alone, which didn’t include any stashes they may have had in other parts of the city or state, though the government would probably find all of their stashes soon enough once they finished combing through the Injectors’ files. It was satisfying to know that all of their carefully laid plans had come to nothing.

  “By the way, how’s your dad doing?” said Kyle. “I heard he got beat pretty badly by Michael.”